


The Interlopers

by BluesfeedUnsolved



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Magic, Gen, Magic, Parallel Universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluesfeedUnsolved/pseuds/BluesfeedUnsolved
Summary: After casting a magic spell, Logan wakes up in some strange location with someone calling themselves Janus. Janus is looking for Logan. Just not this Logan.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17
Collections: TSS Fanworks Collective, TSS Fanworks Collective Discord: January Remix Challenge!





	The Interlopers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IronWoman359](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronWoman359/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Disappearing Act](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571719) by [IronWoman359](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronWoman359/pseuds/IronWoman359). 
  * Inspired by [Disappearing Act](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571719) by [IronWoman359](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronWoman359/pseuds/IronWoman359). 
  * In response to a prompt by [IronWoman359](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronWoman359/pseuds/IronWoman359) in the [tss_fanworks_collective_discord_january_remix_challenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/tss_fanworks_collective_discord_january_remix_challenge) collection. 



> This is remix of the lovely IronWoman359's fic: Disappearing Act!
> 
> Warnings:
> 
> Minor angst  
> Minor swearing
> 
> Please let me know if I should add anything else!

The last thing he remembered hearing was his name. Though Logan supposed everyone said that. That everyone said that when they died. He also supposed that it was very dark when people died. He didn’t even believe in the existence of a soul or any sort of afterlife, but death seemed the most likely option. He botched the spell, died, and abandoned Virgil (who was likely on the verge of a nervous breakdown, knowing him. Though that in of itself was not uncommon, but it was justifiable in what must be a situation like this).

The darkness, his inability to find his pulse, the pounding in his head. All of it made sense for one answer: he was dead. What he could not quite understand, was the strong smell of cinnamon and sugar.

“Finally decided to wake up, have you now?” said a gruff voice, not unlike an eyeroll. “Muffin?”

Logan slowly sat up and looked around. Everything had one color to it. A shiny dark dark blue that could pass for black if it tried hard enough, though the small specklings of white would not help its case. There was no way to be able to discern where anything stopped or started, yet he could recognize where the pot of tea several yards away from him was and where the rug underneath him clashed with the hardwood floor.

Looking to his left (relative to incoherent colorscheme, of course), he saw a man trying to stifle a laugh. “Wakey wakey.” Instead of giggling like Logan having gotten a perfect score on an exam back at university, he gave a series of laughs (likely suppressing his laughter, Logan suspected). “Muffin?”

“I’m sorry,” said Logan flatly. “What is going on?”

\---

“You hit your head kind of hard there,” the man said. The man was the one thing that was not blue. In fact, there was not a touch of blue on him. His specific color scheme seemed to be yellow and black, though the left side of his face had a greener tint and some inhuman texture (not that Logan was inexperienced with entities that were not completely human. There was a rather _fun_ incident regarding some pissed off vampires back in his college days.) This had a way of smiling, frowning, glowering, and smirking all rolled into one movement of his mouth. If Logan somehow figured out how to make it out alive (or re-alive, he supposed), he was going to figure out how to do that exact facial expression. “Hate to have that bruise. Really, I would.”

“Did I now?” Logan wasn’t sure if his oncoming headache was from the usual sinus pressure or this man’s sheer existence. “You know, I don’t think that I believe you. You don’t seem very worried.”

The man’s face softened in the same way a person with no fear of death’s face softened. “Oh, I’m just broken up about it, Logan.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Alright, we’re getting nowhere with this. What is happening? Who are you?”

“I’m sorry? Did you actually hit your head? I was just joking about that.” He saw Logan’s blank stare and raised eyebrow. “Oh, no; you’re being serious.”

“I am always being serious. I have a--”

“Necktie, right. Do you seriously not know who I am? I impersonated twice, that you know of. Sorry about that, by the way. Well…” he said as if he was throwing around in his head if he truly was sorry,

“How do you know about the necktie thing? Why do you know my name? Who are you?” Logan shouted.

“It’s me: Janus. Oh my hypothetical god. You know me.” Janus began to pace around the space--continuing to be entirely dark blue. How he knew where everything was as to not bump into them, Logan had no idea. “Lord of the Lies. Excellent taste in fashion. Looks like he belongs in the Jazz Age, but is just a bit too handsome.”

“We literally look exactly alike, but you’re more reptilian.”

“Then I gave you a compliment too. Besides, _everyone_ likes snakes.”

“That compliment did not feel genuine. And yes, people like snakes, but not half-snake men. I think a half-snake man would terrify almost anyone. Hold on; why do we look alike?”

“I have that effect sometimes,” he grinned. “You can see for yourself. You’re quaking with fear.”

“I am not quaking. You are not scary. My situation is confusing. You are just a nuisance.”

“My word, you wound me. But don’t act like you’re a real barrel of laughs either, sweetheart." His smile didn't have time to reach his eyes. "Oh, this almost slipped my mind, but it's spelled J-A-N-U-S, by the way.” 

“I did not ask,” said Logan. “And I believe the exact wording of my questions were ‘what the fuck is happening?’”

“Boo. You’re no fun.”

“So, I’ve been told. Many times throughout the course of my life and at least twice from you just now.”

Janus pulled that face again and said, “I’ll stop once I no longer believe it’s true.” 

Logan admitted that the muffin tasted rather good. Janus insisted that it was coffee cake, though Logan wasn’t quite sure if he would call it that. Something about it seemed off and it wasn’t just the fact that it was the same dark blue color of everything else, save for Janus and himself. The chair he was sitting on--also dark blue-- was as comfortable as the ones his home had.

“I really could not care less about your opinion of me. Just please tell me what is going on.” He would admit that he did sigh often. Too many stupid people doing stupid things around him for him not to. However, this sigh was by far the deepest and most desperately tired sigh he had ever taken. “Am I dead?”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“Mmhmm.”

Logan groaned. “Please enlighten me.”

“Well, hmm. Now, I'm all for getting philosophical on what it means to exist here like this, but I don't think we can say for sure. So, hmm,” Janus said thoughtfully. “Reasonably, I’d have to say no. Now, is that a satisfactory enough answer for you?”

“No, it really isn’t.”

Janus raised an eyebrow and coughed. “Fine. Let’s logic our way through this if it’s that important to you: There is no way to tell whether or not we are dead or alive. I don't think imaginary people count as either. In conclusion, I do not believe that you are dead. Though I am confused as to why you don't know me because you should know me. I’m pretty unforgettable.”

“I can imagine so,” Logan deadpanned.

“Cute,” Janus said flatly _and_ with a frown. “You are Logan Sanders, right?”

“Yes. I am an expert level magician (if I do say so myself). I excel in theoretical magic and that was why I was doing my spell. Somehow I ended up here, which I don’t believe was my intended destination. I am researching parallel universes. My spell was meant to bring me to one, but instead I am--”

Janus cut him off with a raised hand; something Logan was very used to seeing. “I’m not quite sure why or how, but I think I understand now. You’re not Logan.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Right. Okay.” Janus could have sworn he was losing brain cells the longer he was here. They did share the same stubbornness and need to always be right. “You may be Logan Sanders and you may look exactly like Logan Sanders and speak like Logan Sanders and have a very similar personality to Logan Sanders but you are not _my_ Logan Sanders.”

\---

Logan’s face was firmly planted on the hardwood floor. One second earlier he fell out of a gray smokey portal complete with enough sparkles that it could have been mistaken for something Roman threw up. “Oh my. Everything hurts. I have never wanted to not move more than now. Is this how Virgil feels all of the time?”

“Logan?”

He chose not to move his body, but his head. This turned out to be a terrible idea because all he saw was grey sparkle smoke (which his lungs were rather upset with him about). He could faintly see the outline of a person, however, if he was quite frank--like he usually was--what he really wanted was an ice pack.

As if on its own, the smoke began to clear and a figure stepped through, looking like a cross between your fourteen year old nephew going through a growth spurt who discovered music with screaming for the first time--and oh, wait--there is no crossover; it’s just that. “Holy fucking shit, Logan. Did you fucking die? Don’t you dare try that again.”

He continued on like this and pulled Logan into a vice-like hug.

After several coughs, Logan sputtered, “Lovely to see you as well, friend.”

The “friend” peeled himself away and stared at him. “L?”

Logan’s tally for strange events was currently at three. To review: falling through a sparkly portal, being referred to by his name by someone he had never met, and being called the same nickname. In supposition, the last one was not quite so weird. “L” was a very reasonable shortening for a name that began with “L”. Last he had checked, Logan was also a rather common name, especially among frat boys (which thankfully, he was not).

“Something wrong?” the “friend” said.

“You look like someone I know. Something is just ‘off’.”

The two stared at each other before the “friend” said, “Logan?” at the same time Logan said, “Virgil?”

The real kicker was when both responded with “Yes?”

“You are not Virgil.” Logan said definitively.

“And you are not Logan,” Virgil replied.

“So, then why--”

“Do you look just like him?” It was uncanny, the resemblance. There were a few minor differences. This Logan had darker glasses and was not wearing the dark blue jacket _his_ Logan was almost never not seen without. “You’re not my Logan.”

Logan was lost, to say the least. This Virgil had the same nervous eyes that couldn’t resist looking around the room twenty times to make sure nothing was out of place. Same natural affinity for purple. However, this Virgil had a slightly smaller nose and his eyes were a tad farther apart; minor differences, but important ones. Ones that anyone should be able to see unless you are majorly pompous, but there was definitely not a single person like that who could come to mind. “It seems so. I believe we may have some things to discuss.”

\---

Logan’s eyes widened and his chest began to have a bubbling feeling. He could not hold back even the tiniest of grins. “It worked? My spell actually worked. Oh my. I am getting all tingly just at the thought of it.”

“Alright. Don’t get your tie in a twist. You're getting excited and I don’t like it.” Janus was still sitting across from Logan and checking a watch on his arm--that Logan could tell did not actually exist.

“I have to know everything,” Logan said definitively. “Where am I? How do you know me? Who exactly are you? What is ‘your’ Logan like? What is with the blue color everywhere? Why are you a sn--”

Janus put a hand up (a signal for “please shut up, you are very annoying” that not only was Logan exceedingly familiar with, but also apparently spanned the entirety of the space-time continuum. Who knew?). “If you’re anything like my Logan, you will only respond to ‘ripping off the bandaid’. You are in someone’s imagination. I am technically not real. In layman’s terms, I am the embodiment of lies and self-preservation. We don’t really have time to get more into that. 

“My Logan is the embodiment of logical thought and reasoning. He’s kind of a prick, but that is neither here nor there. I’m not really sure why you’re seeing blue. Since you are technically real and are being projected into an imaginary space, you’re not exactly going to be privy to this kind of stuff.

“I’m just guessing, that is.”

“So, why a snake?”

“Nobody likes people who are nosy, Logan.” Janus’ smile did not give off light for his eyes to reach, which was interesting because he looked directly at Logan with only his reptilian eye. It was then that Logan noticed that it had its own light.

Nosy was actually a rather common trait in people. The term “nosy” accurately described people who believed that a loud entrance was better than surveying the situation. These people also walked as if the world revolved around them, unfortunately for everyone else, they did have useful traits at times. Nosy was great if you wanted information to spread, however neither Logan nor Janus had thought that far ahead and nosy people did not pertain to the plans of those who thought. And the trouble with parallel universes, is that this trait of “nosy” was found in the exact same people between universes. Some things never changed.

“Janus,” yelled perhaps the loudest person Logan had ever met and this wasn’t even the correct version of him. One, Roman Sanders, bursted into the room because he would not know boundaries if it stole his sword from him. And then he saw Logan: “Oh, our work is all done, then. Awesome. It’s actually really funny because I have a schedule that needs planning right in my pocket.”

Logan wished he had a camera to capture the exact look on Janus’ face. It seemed that one could never truly be prepared for Roman. In fact, Logan was so unprepared that he walked straight up to him and punched him in the face. “Asshole.”

“Well, that’s definitely him.”

The dark blue object in Janus’ hand had lost all feeling in it, even Logan--who could barely distinguish it--could tell. His therapy ball was going to need quite a lot of therapy. “Look a bit closer, Roman.”

Roman squinted as Janus blink at the sheer incompetence radiating off of him. “Did you get a haircut or take karate lessons?”

“You know, I don’t actually don’t know why I thought you’d get it, so I’m just going to explain. _This_ ,” Janus threw his thumb in the direction of Logan, “is not our Logan. Three hours ago, our Logan became angry and stormed off. We have been unable to find him. I thought that I would try summoning him and we ended up here with _him_ : a Logan claiming to be a mage with no recollection of me or you.”

Before Roman could protest, Logan spoke up, “I am a mage. I do magic. I have been doing research into parallel universes after reading an ancient account of meeting her double from another world. My friend, Virgil, and I have been doing theoretical research and I finally put it to the test by creating a spell that would break the boundaries of the space-time continuum. I did not know what I would find, but somehow I ended up here.”

“So, Logan’s in your world. _Our_ Logan, that is,” said Roman after a moment of silence and hummin, the quietest he had ever been. The others stared at him. “What? It makes sense. You’re here, he’s there. Somehow.”

“No. No. No. No.” It was important to note that Logan was pacing as he said this. “That is not how anything works. I am real. I swear that I am real. I--I’m real.”

“No one said you weren’t.” Janus stood up and raised an eyebrow (the snake one, if you must know). “We are not real, but you are something else entirely. And if you are anything like our Logan-- which based off of this entire interaction with you, you are--just accept it.”

“I don’t like the way you speak about him, your Logan. Do not think that I haven’t noticed the disgust in your voice. The way that Roman immediately went to go use him for some task despite him having been missing in action for several hours. How neither of you noticed that I am not him until someone else said something. I have decided that both of you are assholes and I will not be standing for it.” Logan stamped his foot on the ground, but first looked to make sure that he was not going to step on something. It was difficult to determine an exact answer to that, but he went with no. “So, there.”

Roman and Janus looked at each other and then back at Logan. Their opinions on Logan did not differ greatly: a righteous brick in an _infallible_ wall. And frankly, this Logan didn’t seem to be too different from him.

“What’s your stance on emotions?” Roman tried.

“What? Did you not even listen to what I said?” said Logan.

“Well, do you have them?” asked Janus.

“Wha-yes. Of course, I do.”

Once more, Roman and Janus looked at each other and then at Logan. This only made him think of Virgil, whom he could have shared glances and inside jokes with, but was probably crying over his untimely death while he was stuck with a mind numbingly slippery snake and an incompetent prince.

\---

“What kind of tea do you want? I have earl gray, oolong, green, bla--oh, wait. That’s actually newt dust. Do not drink that unless you want a solid week spent over the toilet,” said Virgil, pulling boxes of tea from his cabinet. He did not let anyone but Logan know this, but he was much too short to reach the cabinet on his own and required the use of a step stool. Lucky for him, Logan was there. _Technically_.

“I--none.” Suddenly remembering his manners, Logan answered, “Please?”

Virgil took a deep sigh at this answer and mumbled something like “not again”. He also took several failed attempts to light a fire. There was no stove or oven or lighter in his hands. Several (four specifically) terrible attempts at snapping fingers later, with Logan looking around the room to see if anyone else was as confused as he was (he was the only other person there, which really just made the whole thing even more awkward). 

Smacking his mug onto the table, he said. “So, who the fuck are you and what did you do to Logan?”

“I am Logic, more commonly known as Logan. I exist in the imagination and mind of one, Thomas Sanders. I oversee thoughts, language, and all logical processing. But I don’t really think that this is important. The more pressing matter is that you said that I wasn’t _your_ Logan. This means that you have a Logan, whom I look somewhat like because you are Virgil, but not mine, though you look quite a bit like him.”

“Your name is Logic?”

“It is my function,” he said. He fixed his tie. “I am very proud to say that I am the only Logic and the only one capable of fulfilling such a position.”

Virgil stared at him. “Who hurt you, man?”

“No one? I don’t think? I will be very frank--though when am I not--emotions and I have a very complicated relationship. No one hurt me. I am fine. I just don’t need them like others do.”

Normally, when Logan explained his stance on “emotions”, it was met with the same energy as if he had kicked a puppy, which he had never done for the record and had no intention of doing. He was not expecting a snort as the reaction this time.

“Yeah and how’s that working out for you there, L? Because if you’re anything like my Logan, then you’re not fooling anyone, much less me: someone you just met, _technically_.”

“You don’t know me. You do not get to judge me like that.”

Virgil leaned his face farther into his hand that was resting comfortably on his arm on the table. His garment that Logan did not know how to describe other than baggy and purple was flooded across the table, somehow not spilling his drink. There was a very good possibility that he was becoming the table or was rejoining with it. “Have you ever met a human person?”

“I know one quite well, but I do not think that he is a good standard of ‘human person’. I say that with great, if somewhat required, attachment to him.” 

It was the clunkiest and most awkward sentence Virgil had ever heard and he had to deal with Logan and the horrors of possibly liking someone back in high school. “What are you?”

“I am the embodiment of the logical thought and reasoning of a thirty year old man. I am not actually real, yet somehow here I am: somewhere not in someone’s imagination. There is no magic, but by not being real, I can still technically do whatever I want. It’s odd. There isn’t a good way to explain it. It’s like being real without being real.”  
  


“Like a ghost,” said Virgil, nodding along despite understanding none of it, “or a zombie.”

“What? No. Maybe. No. What?” Logan stared at him, understanding none of it.

“Well, like a zombie and a ghost are both dead, right? But they’re also kind of alive. They’re undead. That’s kind of like you. You’re in some guy’s head, but you can also interact with stuff in the real world. And you’re here, the real world, or _a_ real world.” Virgil continued to slip more and more into the table, or perhaps, it was the opposite. Much like with the chicken and the egg or if the dinosaurs really were wiped out, it was difficult to tell. 

“No, I’m definitely not real,” said Logan, pointedly. He knew that it was a strange thing to explain, precisely why his existence, as well as the others, was a close guarded secret. 

“If that’s true, and I am not doubting you on any of that, then how did you end up here? Logan--my Logan-- was supposed to be the only one to come back. I knew he shouldn’t have done it, but does he ever listen to me? No. I mean, I don’t listen to him, but like this was a bad idea. There was something off about that spell. We’d never done it before, but I could tell that something was off. It was yellow and there’s nothing wrong with the color yellow. It just gave me bad vibes.” 

“Yellow?” Logan wracked his brain. “My main association with that would be Janus, but he doesn’t know about parallel universes, to my knowledge at least. He isn’t exactly the most honest and open person (and that is coming from me).”

“Oh, jeez. You have a Janus. I am so sorry. If there’s a Janus there, I get the feeling that he’s probably involved. Unless it’s the one here, but that would be weird even for him. If you’re here, then my Logan is over there. Did you walk through something? That’s what my Logan did.” Virgil now was the table. 

Logan sighed. “The sides--that is what we’re called. Just go along with it and everything I say henceforth. I do not feel like explaining--and I were having a discussion. It was really nothing out of the ordinary. Just things about scheduling, dreams and aspirations, _feelings_. You know, normal human things. It was a perfectly normal conversation. Everyone talked over me. Roman said inane things. Business as usual. It ended with no real conclusion, and I had work to do anyway, so it was fine. I was in my room for two hours, three minutes, and thirty-nine seconds. But everyone seemed on edge, like they were worried. If I can sometimes hear their thoughts. They had no idea where I was, but I was in my room. I suddenly noticed that everything had a yellow haze to it. I was being pulled, summoned by another side. I go to open my door and it is a yellow and gray haze like my room. I thought that I heard myself. So, I went through.”

“You went through a fucking whispering fog door?” said Virgil, drowning in table as he raised an eyebrow. Seriously? Did no one besides him have any sort of self-preservation? The answer was yes.

“Listen. Either I sat in a slowly dematerializing room or I walked straight through it. I needed to know what was through it. Obviously, now I realize that it was foolish, but in my defense, I didn’t know what was going to be behind it. It could have been some weird Remus thing (do not ask). Thomas could have been dying. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I was losing my mind, figuratively or literally. Would it even matter? They need me. Thomas is a mess. Someone has to be level-headed and calm and make sure that things are running smoothly. Who else would do it? This is my job. I can’t fail, I walked through it and I fell into here and I abandoned them. And everything was gray and smokey. I didn’t know where I was and I heard--”

Virgil and the table separated. He gave exactly three reassuring pats and set a glass of water in front of him. “Hey, it’s okay. Yeah, it’s weird; that’s undeniable, but we’ll figure it out. You want to get back and I want to get my Logan back.” He paused and took a breath and let Logan take everything in. “Let’s just focus on trying to fix this: Logan did a spell and it ended with blinding light and dust and smoke and then suddenly you. But if you were getting summoned at the exact same time as he opened a portal, then that was it. He jumped through and got summoned instead of you while you walked you through the portal leading you here.”

“Okay, but what do we do with this information? I’m assuming that he can’t just ‘magic’ us into the correct universes again because otherwise, he would have already done that. Do you think we could do it from one end? There’s no way for us to redo the process because there’s a very small chance that they’ll do it at the same time, but perhaps we could get close and have you open the portal, I go in and I ‘yeet’ your Logan back through,” said Logan.

“I mean, maybe. But the whole summoning thing was what punched a hole directly into your universe. If I just do the spell, there’s no telling where you’ll end up.”

“Roman,” Logan blurted out.

“What about him? Oh, man. You got Roman too? Fuck, you got unlucky.”

“Virgil, focus. In very simplistic terms, Roman is Creativity and unsurprisingly, also the ego. It’s the closest we are going to get to magic. If he goes to my room, he could probably utilize both his functions and mine and create some sort of portal.”

Virgil’s face lit up (which was unusual for him in most situations) as he realized where Logan was going. “So, both of Logans will act as anchors because you’re both in the wrong universes. It’ll be seeking you both out intentionally. How’d you like to have your first magic lesson, Logan?”

Virgil began to draw a series of runes on the ground. How he saw the ground from underneath the wilds of his cloak? jacket? shadow? thing?, he didn’t know. But Logan was not one to look a gift mage in the mouth and like with everything that happened to him so far, he just went along with it. Apparently, Virgil did the prep work, but the other Logan was the one who actually performed the spell. 

“You’re going to have to stand in the center. You won’t have to do anything. Just stand there and don’t move. Otherwise, you could die, get dismembered, flung into another universe and we’ll have an even bigger problem on our hands. There’s a chance you could--”

“I think that I understand, Virgil.”

Logan stood in the center rune, which looked disturbingly like a smiley face. He cursed himself for his lack of knowledge of runic symbols. Thousands of thoughts about how magic worked and just how this portal in particular functioned.

“Would there be a way for you to write a general overview of magic for me? I am very curious.”

Virgil smirked, but did not look up from his suspicious smiley face. “I don’t think so, L. Not enough time. And even then it’d only be fair for me to ask for an overview of whatever the hell you are, which honestly sounds really complicated. I’m almost done, but one thing: from the way, you shouted my name, I’m assuming that you knew a version of me. I have to ask, out of general curiosity, was I also a ‘function’?”

“Oh, yes. You were Anxiety,” said Logan plainly.

“Yeah, that explains a lot about me.”

The two exchanged a smile. There were far worse people to get stuck in a parallel universe with. Neither could really complain, or would want to. Other Logan was very lucky to have Virgil and other Virgil was very lucky to have Logan.

Virgil had to squint to read the spell off of what looked suspiciously like a decorative napkin. Apparently other Logan had suggested glasses once, but it was now a matter of pride. As he read it, dark blue smoke and light began to emit from the runes. 

He gave a small wave as the world dematerialized around Logan.

\---

“I’m not going to lie.” Both Roman and Logan raised an eyebrow at this. “Alright, I love lying very much, but come on. Portals, parallel universes, _and_ magic? That’s not exactly thematically coherent.”

Roman suddenly looked excited and wide-eyed. “Ooh. Yes! Story-time!”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “I don’t have the greatest relationship with my parents or with most people really. It usually ends up with them getting what they want from me and then leaving; I was convinced that this was how my life would be until I got to college and I met Roman and Virgil. You all changed the way I saw myself. So, I set out to prove everyone wrong, that I wasn’t a tool. That I could do great things outside of other people. I read an ancient account of someone supposedly meeting a version of themself from another world and the rest is history, as they say.

“I should not have punched you, Roman. The last time I saw Roman, we had an argument. And that was years ago. I know that you and him are not the same person. I shouldn’t have punched you.”

“I mean, it hurt, but it’s okay. I can imagine being popped into an alternate reality would stress anyone out; even me, I’m sure.” Roman smiled with no string attached. Logan gave a small sliver of happiness back. Even Janus looked less like he was waiting for death than usual. “We should figure out how to get you back, but I don’t understand what happened. I thought that Janus was summoning Logan, so how did you get here instead?”

“Well, I was summoning our Logan to figure out what the hell happened. His room wasn’t working. I couldn’t get in. That might have been this Logan’s spell causing that. And, so I summoned him and this caught it instead somehow,” Janus offered.

“Yes. Because the way my spell works is that it’s supposed to punch a hole into an alternate universe and I can enter through that hole. So, I began opening the hole, you started summoning and my spell latched onto it. That led me to this universe.” 

Roman and Janus shrugged. “Either way, that just means that we need to open the portal again and push you through. Janus can summon again, so our Logan gets tethered. Perfect.”

Logan piped back in. “I cannot do magic here. There isn’t any magic, so there’s nothing for me to get anything from. Ergo, no portal.”

Roman grinned and excitedly clapped his hands as if he were at a tremendous musical performance. “I think that I may be of some assistance.”

He quickly ran out of the room. Leaving Logan to ask just what was happening.

“Okay, so Roman is Creativity, or part of it ‘technically’. We don’t have time to get into all of that. Just go with it. Since this is the real world, we don’t have magic. But we are part of someone’s imagination, so those rules kind of get defenestrated,” Janus explained. “Logan’s room is the ‘realm of Logic’ if you want to get all Roman about it. Therefore, Roman needs some help from his own room.”

Absolutely on cue, Roman bursted into the room once more with a sword in hand.

“Did you really have to bring the sword?” Janus raised an eyebrow.

“Well, if I am going to cut a hole in the space-time continuum, then I want to do it with my awesome sword. Be as extra as possible all of the time. Have you learned nothing from me?” It was terrifying to have Roman be completely serious as he said this. “Here. It’s not quite magic, but if you do your thing, this might help.”

Logan took the sword as to not hurt Roman’s quite obviously fragile feelings, but there was no way that this would actually do anything.

Logan would actually stand corrected as he muttered the spell while drawing a crude circle in the air. Dark colored smoke poured out of the circle. 

“Thank you both. I don’t believe that I understand anything that has happened to me here, but I appreciate you for helping me. I think that I am going to take a very long nap to contemplate how I somehow broke into someone’s mind and hung around with figments of someone’s imagination. I really really do not get it.” Logan said. He took one last look at them. “Thank you.”

Roman waved his sword excitedly while Janus decided to give a wave that could have meant absolutely anything, but Logan was too tired to really delve into it.

He left them in smoke.

\---

This place pulsed with the same energy of a toddler on sugar vibrating in their seat. Logan was waiting for this sham of a science fiction story to come to its hellish end and, frankly, a void hall really wasn’t on the agenda. 

There was a very good chance that the place he accidentally left was on fire or that there were preparations for his funeral.

He could see a smokey window on the opposite of him. It would have been a very easy endeavor if not for him having slammed into someone. Looking up, he saw the most curious thing.

“You must be me,” they said at the same time.

After several strikingly similar stares, the Logan on the right finally spoke, “Hello. As you can see, I am you, but not.”

“Yes, I see that two Logans, even when displaced by time and space, were able to figure out a solution. I cannot pretend that I understand anything that happened today, but you know good people,” said Logan on the left.

“As do you. Virgil tries very hard. Though I think that I upset him by declining tea.” 

“Oh, he’ll be fine. He has a habit of offering tea but only when no one wants any. And if it is any consolation, I punched Roman in the face.”

They each hid a smile. “Oh, we’ve all thought about doing that at least once.”

It was eerie to see someone who looked exactly like them. The same knowing glances. The same frown. The same distaste for most other people. Crofter’s had not come up in the conversation, but there was no doubt in either of their minds that it was a staple across the space-time continuum.

“It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“It was all mine.”

They took each other’s hands and shook it. As they made their ways to their respective doors, they took one last knowing look. 

Everything was as it should be. And it was comforting to know that somewhere in the space-time continuum, there was another Logan feeling just as comforted in that knowledge.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Definitely check out the other fics created for this remix challenge! Everyone did a wonderful job.


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